


Little Glowy Friend

by merryfortune



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS
Genre: Domestic, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Canon, resolved angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-23 19:37:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18556444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merryfortune/pseuds/merryfortune
Summary: And that night, the first night, Spectre did something uncharacteristic of himself. He let himself be small and he let himself be comfortable. Whole.





	Little Glowy Friend

   And that night, the first night, Spectre did something uncharacteristic of himself. He let himself be small and he let himself be comfortable. Whole. He went to bed, his head gently shifting against his pillow whilst he detached his Duel Disc and under the sheets, he did not sleep like a log but rather curled up, a foetal position around his most prized possession. No, that is incorrect. His most prized companion, the creature which inhabited his Duel Disc.

   Spectre had never been one of those children. They type of child who had to cling to something soft to sleep, to soothe and to comfort them in the darkness and against uneasy rest. It was just another way all his peculiarities and eccentricities manifested but, in this moment, he could almost feel his six-year-old self resurface within his late adolescent body and reclaim a comfort that Spectre had always denied himself. He found it strangely freeing, completing, to relish such a late-coming acceptance.

   The Lieutenants – before they had even been Lieutenants at all, when they were still just assistants to Dr Kogami – had found it interesting that Spectre actively – or inactively – resisted normalcy. When Ryoken had brought him home, they had been terrified at first. After all, the image of his torture had been seared unto their brains, even though he had revelled in the electrocution and starvation. And, once they got to know him a bit better, they came to adore all his quirks.

   Though, it was difficult to tell if they fawned over him because they wanted to atone or because he amused them. He still wonders that; if some part of them still had him detached from their selves to save them the guilt and consciousness. Spectre didn’t mind. He liked all the ways that they played with him; even conducting experiments. One such experiment he recalled them conducting on him was a Harlow experiment.

   They were fascinated by how he perceived comfort and what he took comfort in. His concept of a Mother Tree over a human mother was novel to them, so one day, they tested him not unlike Harlow and his baby monkeys. They set up a similar experiment; food or comfort. And Spectre, as a child, hadn’t understood why there were two fake mothers for him to cling to.

   He had chosen food over comfort, not even once switching between them. He would consistently pick food. The idea of the experiment was to time how long Spectre, their test subject, spent with both objects but Spectre rebelled, innocently, against such a measure to find what was important. That’s not how Spectre saw it; it is still not how he sees it, either. He liked the ‘metal mother’ who gave him treats when he opened her up at his whim and took the chocolate and other candies from her. He never once touched the towelled ‘mother’ who was supposed to offer him comfort.

   Upon being asked why, he simply replied that the comfort item they had chosen for him didn’t appeal to him. It wasn’t evocative of a mother’s love for him. Instead, he saw more of his Tree Mother in the ‘metal mother’ who cast strange shadows when the light which streamed in from the window hit her right. Spectre found that such a thing, as cold to the touch as it was, was more evocative of the dappled sunshine and streaky moonlight he had experienced beneath the caring and tender branches of his Mother Tree all those years ago. Dr Kogami’s assistants marvelled at such a reply.

   Yet, right now, as Spectre curled up on his bed with his hand trailing along the rim of his Duel Disc, a finger encircling it and imagining petting Earth and his other hand, close to his chest and his thumb adjacent to his mouth, he felt how he had grown as a person. Especially as he reflected on those numb, childhood memories of what familial love – what love in general – had once been to him. But, right now, he revelled in the change and was embracing the domesticity of it with a full and open heart for his heart was no longer in disrepair, there was no longer than incessant hole in it. A hole born of his longing for true companionship, for true love, and for true comfort.

   He had seen it in plenty of other children. Those who sought the comfort of security blankets and toys to help them get to sleep. He had not been one of those children. Not when the anchor of all his securities couldn’t be brought it inside into the den of the human-made. After all, the matrons of the orphanage would never let him sleep with even a pot plant nearby to help quell any anxieties of the night that he had as a child; as a cruel, yet still vulnerable child.

   But as Spectre rested his head, he felt the flutter of a strange comfort in his heart. It was a warm feeling that he savoured, cherished, and it was all because he had been reunited with the creature born of how he had duelled in that white room, alone, all those years ago. It had been a long, long time since he had experienced such serenity.

   Spectre sighed contentedly to himself. His muted noise piqued Earth’s interest. With weary, blue eyes, Earth slowly peeked out of the Disc, over its orange-and-black edges and watched as his Origin tried to sleep but was unable to succumb to slumber. There was a childlike giddiness in his pale teal eyes. Yet, Earth couldn’t discern what Spectre was thinking from his expression; it was happy yet dearly bittersweet.

   So, he dared to ask, and he dared to inch closer, crawling out of the safe haven that Spectre wanted to make out of him. Earth’s hands, large amongst the Ignis but surprisingly small to someone as gargantuan to the creatures as a human, especially one as tall as Spectre. Earth’s finger traced along Spectre’s face; it was too close. His cheeks were wet, yet Earth couldn’t swab away any truly fallen teardrops.

   “What are you thinking of?” Earth asked.

   “That I love you.” Spectre confessed, his brows creased deeply upon his malleable face and his eyes watered. His voice as sincere as the tolling of cathedral bells.

   Earth smiled an Ignis smile: a pleasant and placid emotion which caused the glitter in his eyes to swirl and the shape of them distort, like a squished balloon but it was cute. Very cute. Spectre liked to see Earth smile, he discovered in the quiet moment following his reply.

   “I-I’m glad.” Earth elected to reply.

   Spectre gently placed his hand on his Duel Disc. His fingers tracing the edges of the device. He half-smiled, eyes fluttering closed tiredly.

   “You’re very bright.” Spectre told his Ignis. “Almost like a night-light or lamp.”

   “O-Oh? Am I?” Earth stammered, a touch embarrassed. He sank slightly back and into the digital depths of the Duel Disc.

   “I don’t mind, I’ll get used to it.” Spectre replied and he was thrilled by the possibility of getting used to such a thing. “But I would like to sleep, I’ll just need to adjust with you being nearby.”

   “No, it’s fine…” Earth murmured, and he sank further and further into the Duel Disc, transforming into an eyeball upon its surface. “Humans prefer to sleep in darkness, yes?”

   “Mhm.” Spectre mumbled to himself and he drew in his legs closer still to his chest.

   His hand remained curled along the edges of the Duel Disc and he let his forehead fall closer to it. He just wanted to touch and keep touching it, touching Earth. He wanted to be sure that this was true; that there was no illusion. This was the first night. The first night of many nights. They could be together at last. No more fighting, no more wishing the other dead, simply atoning for the way that fate had previously divided them and enjoying the ensuing partnership.

   Finally, at long last, Spectre felt whole. Complete. As though he were exactly as he always had meant to be, despite the life that he had lived. He had no regrets, his devotion to Ryoken would never falter, but there was something intrinsically and satisfyingly right about how he felt right now, in this moment by the cover of darkness and the cover his bedding with his dear and beloved Ignis.


End file.
